Denouement
by Seriously Sam
Summary: William Van de Kamp was just an ordinary kid until a horrifying experience left him craving for truths that only his biological parents held. Years later, Will went from a rising star to the biggest joke the FBI had ever seen when he uncovered the X-Files.


_I originally posted this story under a different pen name. I cannot remember the password and the email was an old college email I used. Therefore, I'm reposting it under a different pen name because I'm excited about the revival! This time around, I'll finish the story!_

 **"Denouement"**

 **"Chapter One: Denouement"**

 **Saratoga, Wyoming**

 **June 23, 2012**

It was the summer that would change everything. William Van de Kamp's world would unravel. Secrets, hidden long ago, were packed away in a small box buried in the attic under old baby clothes. William was eleven, rambunctious, popular amongst his classmates. He was smart, smarter than his parents could even keep up with. There was an uncanny ability where he empathized with those around him, knowing what was wrong and knowing just the right thing to say.

William sat in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of his bedroom door. He was tying the laces to his Nikes as he glanced up to look at himself in the mirror. Chestnut hair fell into his icy, blue eyes. He was tall for his age, towering above every other male in his class. He was lanky with gangly arms and legs. It took him awhile to adjust to his sudden growth spurt around his birthday the past year. William frowned. Neither of his parents were particularly tall, neither had blue eyes, neither had his long nose, neither had his goofy grin. In fact, his hair color was the only physical attribute that he shared with his parents.

"William! You're going to be late for practice!" his mother called from somewhere downstairs.

Standing up, he dusted the wrinkles out of his baseball t-shirt. He was the star pitcher of the little league's team. He was convinced he'd make varsity his first year of high school if he kept up the hard work. Reaching to grab his ball cap from his dresser, he placed it squarely on his head, flattening his unruly hair. Next, he tucked his worn mitt under his armpit and grabbed the Louisville Slugger resting against the wall.

William ran down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He saw his dad sitting on the living room couch hunched over a birdfeeder he was painting. Newspapers were scattered over the coffee table to protect the wood. The news was running on the flatscreen above the fireplace.

"The government has mandated that everyone be inoculated with the Avian Flu vaccine by September first. The virus has already claimed over a thousand in the U.S. and many more internationally. Schools and employers are working with local government to ensure everyone is inoculated."

William unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder where he had been inoculated at the end of the school year. The vaccine had burned as it worked its way into his body and made more than a few students sick. His dad had complained about it, tried to get William out of the mandatory shot, but the police had intervened and forced him into the nurse's office. He remembered his dad screaming, spewing about how government had gotten too big. He wanted his son to get the vaccine where and when he saw fit.

"You're going to be late!" his mother's voice sang as she rounded the corner.

"Just a few blocks down," he said with confidence as his mother placed her hands on either side of his face. " _Mom_."

"Don't whine," she replied as she placed a kiss squarely on his right cheek before letting go.

"Practice is over with at six. I'll be home for dinner."

"Have fun."

He nodded before strolling out of the old farmhouse. Once off the front porch, he slung his bat over his shoulder and began the short journey to the ball field.

It was a walk he made many times before. The field was across the street from the elementary school. He had been allowed to walk down there by himself since he was nine years old. It was a small town where he lived. Everyone knew everyone. Nobody locked their doors. The police dealt mostly with people speeding, a few accidents here and there, and the occasional cow tipping from rowdy teenagers or drunken kids home from college. Perhaps, that was why William didn't take much notice of the white van driving slowly down the cracked road.

The van slowed nearly to a stop, dust kicking up from the back wheels. The side door slid open, and William whipped his head to look at the two bulky men visible. One stepped out. Stretching to his full height, the man had to be at least six feet tall. His muscles bulged underneath the green t-shirt. A hand reached out and ripped the baseball bat from his grasp and hurled it into a cornfield. William froze. His mitt falling to the ground as strong arms grabbed his around the midsection, pinning his arms to his sides. When his brain registered what had happened, he opened his mouth to scream when he was thrown into the van. The second man, just as burly as the first, pinned him down effortlessly. Something sharp jabbed into the side of his neck and everything went black.

 **Washington, D.C.**

 **November 14, 2030**

Time is an enigma. It's measured in different increments, never quite in the same way as the next person. Universally, most time is told in terms of when Christ was born. Some may have a different way of telling time – those who take an important moment in their own lives and start counting the ticks of the clock that way. Three days since the death of a beloved pet. Two weeks since a nasty breakup. Six months since one was told they were dying of a terminal illness. Five years since one's last alcoholic drink. A decade since one's soul mate died. Eighteen years since strangers, who wanted to use him to end the world, abducted him from his home. Twenty-eight years one was put up for adoption. Eighty-three years since a government conspiracy started to rule the lives of society.

William Van de Kamp was fascinated by time, the impact that certain events had on people. Will told time from the moment he knew for a fact that he was different. All small children have imaginary friends, but Will had ones who saved his life and continued to help him even as an adult. While most imaginary friends appear when a child is a toddler and disappear a few years later, William met his three imaginary friends when he was eleven and kidnapped from his home.

Everyone knew about conspiracies and some even believed them, but Will lived and breathed by the plots. Some people believe in magic, but Will believed he possessed it. It was one event, one fractured moment in time, that unraveled his life's destiny: his abduction.

He remembered walking to baseball practice on the barren streets of Wyoming. A white van stopped, strong arms pulled him inside, a needle in his neck. He remembered the drowsiness, the fear, the panic. He'd woken up on a cold floor in a bare room. His captors asked him to do things that he cried he didn't know how to do. Read minds, move things by just thinking about it, kill a man with just his mind. The whole time, at least one of his imaginary friends had stayed with him and told him what to do. They helped him escape, helped him find his parents, and helped him move far far away from the bad men.

The men who abducted him were never found, and Will never saw them again. He told his parents everything, told them he could read their minds, feel their emotions, move things with just a thought. He demanded answers, answers he knew that they could not give even before the three dreaded words escaped his father's lips. _You were adopted_. They could not offer him comfort or give him an explanation. Instead, they sent him to psychologists and hospitals for extended stays. Soon, Will began to deny what he could do just to stop the tests and evaluations. After a year of endless doctors and psych words, he was told that he was dealing from post traumatic stress disorder after his kidnapping and was fabricating everything because of his ordeal.

Except, Will knew better. He couldn't explain _why_ these things happened to him, but he knew he wasn't making up lies or false truths. Through the years, his journey of the truth led him to the one place where he was positive he would find it.

 **FBI Headquarters**

 **November 14, 2030**

"Agent Brody, have you ever heard of an Agent William Van de Kamp?"

The name rang a sense of familiarity in her mind. The agent was sort of a legend in the FBI mainstream. He had single-handedly caught more criminals while assigned to the VCU for two years than any other agent in that time frame. He then moved onto criminal investigation for another two years where he was known to be one of the best profilers of his time. Suddenly, he dropped off the map and wasn't spoken about again. His name was only spoken in hushed whispers and his newer exploits were never spoken of. Special Agent Van de Kamp had basically ruined his FBI career because he joined some department in the bureau which was deeply frowned upon.

"Yes, I've heard of him," she replied.

Glancing towards the corner of the room, she noted a stiff and bulky man standing in the shadows. He looked military based upon his stance and physique. Next to him stood a pretty brunette female with a cigarette dangling from her fingertips. The two people surveyed the meeting, outsiders looking in. Suddenly, Brody felt like a caged animal.

"Then you know he's found himself a pet project called the X-Files. Agent Van de Kamp uses… extreme measures to garner results. With your law background, I have no doubt you can keep him in line and… _deal_ with the X-Files in an appropriate manner."

" _Deal_ with it, Sir?"

Her attention suddenly snapped back to the deputy director. Something about the way this meeting was turning out didn't settle quite right with Brody. The two figures standing in the corner only made that feeling intensify.

"You will evaluate his proceedings and help us determine how to resolve the issue." The deputy director cleared his throat. "You are dismissed, Agent Brody."

"Yes, Sir," she said numbly.

Standing up, she took one last glance at the mysterious people in the room before she exited. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor of the Hoover building as she made her way down to the basement where Agent Van de Kamp was waiting for her arrival.

William Van de Kamp held one of the most impressive dossiers that Brody had ever seen. He had graduated top of his class at Yale University with a degree in psychology. He then proceeded to Brown University where he got his masters with top honors. He was recruited right out of Brown into the FBI. Quickly, he rose within the FBI, some saying he'd be the youngest director within ten years time. Then, somewhere from point A to B, he'd shattered all hopes of high power. Stumbling wholeheartedly onto a dumping ground of phony UFO sightings and urban legends, he had fallen faster than any rising star in the FBI's history. Some said he went insane after all the horrific things he saw during the course of his career. Others said he just couldn't stand the pressure of the expectations laid about in front of him. Either way, he was considered the biggest joke in the bureau.

Brody knocked softly on the door to the X-Files office. No one responded. Just as she was about to knock once more, a chair squeaked. Footfalls crossed the room. A bolt unlocked and then another. The door opened to reveal the infamous William Van de Kamp.

Even though his shoulders slouched forward, he towered over Brody. His floppy chestnut hair was brushed messily off to the side. A few days stubble graced his jaw. A small array of light freckles were splattered across his unusually pale nose and cheeks. His icy blue eyes stared at Brody with little interest.

"Agent Van de Kamp, my name is Riley Brody. I'm your new partner," she introduced herself with her hand extended forward.

"Who'd you piss off to get this gig?" he joked.

Ignoring her offered hand, he retreated back into the office and plopped down behind his desk which was cluttered with several mountains of folders and papers. The mess extended to the surrounding area of the desk. Pictures of every supernatural being and phenomenon covered every inch of the walls. A giant poster for a movie entitled "From Hell It Came" was tacked to the wall behind the sole desk. Perhaps what was most out of place in the room filled with paranormal paraphernalia was the case of classic baseball cards hanging from the plaster.

"I didn't piss off anyone, Agent Van de Kamp. I'm actually quite excited to work with you. I've been wondering if the legend lives up to the man."

"Call me Will," he said with a small smirk gracing his features as he gazed up at her. "Agent Van de Kamp is such a mouthful."

"Well, we should play equally then. Call me Riley."

"So, _Brody_ , I gotta say I'm sort of impressed that they sent you down here to the toxic waste dump to work with me," explained Will as Brody frowned. "You were a straight 'A' student at Brown University. Go Bears! You graduated in the top ten of your class with honors. You then went to Harvard Law and made law review. Impressive. The FBI recruited you and you graduated with more honors. Found yourself in VCU, celebrated quite a few victories and was on the fast track. Then, all of a sudden, you ask for a transfer out of VCU and they throw you to the dogs in the X-Files. Surely, Brody, you pissed someone off."

"You did your homework," she responded flatly.

Brody crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the enigma that was William Van de Kamp. There was something about the man that was dark, twisted. It was as though all the secrets of the world were ones that he knew, that he held power that no one else imaginable could ever hope to achieve. He played his game shroud in mystery with a mask of indifference and sarcasm. His persona filled the room, and Brody found herself more than a little intimidated.

"If someone's gong to come down here to spy on me, I might as well know their history and deep, dark secrets."

"What makes you think I've come down here to spy on you?" she snapped. "I'm an FBI agent just as you are, and I would prefer to be treated with respect."

"Alright," stated Will feebly, "I apologize."

The apology didn't do anything to settle the score in Brody's mind. The once thrilling mention of working with such an agent as Will was now replaced with regret. The decision to leave VCU was rapidly becoming painful and gaping. The people there were intense and focused but were also compassionate and friendly. It was just too hard to remain there after everything that had happened, to live with the mistakes that were made on her last case. The X-Files seemed like a breath of fresh air, a time to regroup and evaluate. It seemed like it would not be her escape but rather her undoing.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials, Brody?"

"I don't believe nor do I disbelieve."

"You can't have it both ways. You gotta have an opinion."

For the first time since their initial meeting, Will looked actually interested in her. There were no bitter jokes or indifferent remarks. His full attention was on her, the filed lay completely forgotten on the desk.

"I believe that it is arrogant, to say the least, that we are the only living creatures in the entire galaxy, in all of space. That is to say that just because others may exist does not mean that they have contacted us or live amongst us. Honestly, I don't believe that they are here or ever going to come. I do not believe that they are little green men who abduct people to perform horrifying tests. It's ludicrous."

"I don't believe they're little green men either," jested Will with a smirk. "I do believe they are among us. I believe that they have enrooted themselves into our society, planted themselves in our government. I believe they are slowly colonizing our planet, infecting it with viruses and enslaving innocents. I believe there are conspiracies that men before us have failed in every respect to stop because the power got to their heads… or maybe they didn't fully grasp the consequences of their actions. Either way, our very existence is in danger of being extinct."

In that moment, everything about the future of their partnership suddenly became crystal clear. His willingness to believe in government conspiracies would be what would unravel him and would be her downfall as well. There was no way that she could tear this man down, to demolish his very beliefs because higher authority requested it of her. She would not be able to live with herself if she helped them in the demise of William Van de Kamp, if she helped them crush a man to rid of a burden. Guilty by association never rang so true in Brody's ears.

"You believe aliens live within our government? That they… control our society?"

"Come here and lemme see your neck."

"Excuse me?"

"Lemme see your neck."

Taking a tentative step forward, Brody lifted her shoulder length, dark brown hair to expose her neck. William got up form his desk and stepped behind her. His cold hands lifted the clasp of her necklace up as the other hand ran down her smooth neck. The very contact made Brody shudder.

"The good news is you're not an alien. The bad news is I've given you goose bumps." He chuckled softly before returning to his desk.

"You can tell based upon my neck if I-I'm alien?"

"Well, a certain type of alien at least. Hybrids, I think, who have bumps on the base of their necks. I'm not quite _that_ well versed in the differences of alien physiology yet."

If it had been any other situation, Brody would have laughed out loud at the context of the conversation. Aliens and government conspiracies were always possible but more often than not were proven false. Brody never really considered the outlandish tales to be real. Although, she had never met someone who was so true to his convictions of the subject before either.

"Do you just go around looking at everybody's neck before you give them the time of day?" questioned Brody with amusement lacing her words.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were mocking me."

Will turned towards his computer and clicked away quickly. The projector on the ceiling flickered to life as an image of a dead body in a morgue was brought up. The body was male and face down on the examination table. On the back of the man's neck were two protrusions. The image disappeared and was replaced with a picture of the man on his back. On his chest was a bullet wound. Surrounding the wound was a metallic-like circle.

"This guy died from a gunshot wound to the chest," explained Will lazily. "When they pulled the bullet for forensics, they found that it was comprised of melted down magnetite. How good is your chemistry, Agent Brody?"

"Uh, magnetite is a ferromagnetic mineral – it's the most magnetic of all the natural minerals on Earth. I just never heard of someone crafting a bullet out of this."

"Mister Gunshot Wound was never identified. In fact, his body disappeared from the morgue the day after he arrived. The toxicology reports vanished into thin air as well. Everything was gone but these few picture I have. What really gets me is that the coroner doesn't recollect any significant findings, doesn't note the bumps on the neck or the ring around the wound as anything out of the ordinary in his total piece of bullshit story – or, if you wanna get technical, bogus report."

"Well, clearly this man died of a gunshot wound," reasoned Brody.

"Oh, no, see, I'm not doubting that. Even I can note the obvious cause of death as that. I wanna know what that ring is, what those bumps are, why the bullet was composed of magnetite, why the coroner denies any significant findings, why the body disappeared, why the toxicology findings were destroyed. This goes beyond a simple autopsy of a murder victim. Someone was trying to cover up this man's death, who this man was."

Will flipped through several more shots of the dead man including close ups of the protrusions on the neck and the metallic colored ring around the gunshot wound. Brody tore her gaze away from the screen to glance at her new partner. A smirk danced on his face, a glint shining wildly in his deep ocean orbs.

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"The Mountain State."

 **Beckley, West Virginia**

 **November 14, 2030**

Will pulled into the parking lot of the local morgue. Cutting the engine, he turned towards Brody as though he was about to say something. Thinking better of it, he hauled his tall frame out of the sedan and headed briskly to the front door without waiting for Brody. Immediately, he went up to the front desk.

"I'm Special Agent William Van de Kamp," he introduced himself as he produced his badge. "I need to speak with a Doctor Conners."

"Uh, hold on a second. I'll go get him."

The secretary disappeared into the back room when Brody entered the building. She looked more than just a little upset that Will had taken off without her. Will didn't dare look at her, didn't dare reveal that he cared what she thought. She was sent to spy on him, shut down the X-Files, to keep the conspiracies quiet. Maybe, just maybe, if he convinced her of what was really out there, she could respect his crusade and mislead her bosses.

"I hear you're with the FBI. How can I help you?"

An elderly man in a lab coat appeared. So this was the coroner who wrote down false findings and kept his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Except, something about him didn't feel right, didn't feel human. Will's heart pounded in his chest and conclusions were jumping to his mind. He had spent his whole life trying to deny his instincts, deny what he saw or what he could do. It hadn't been until he came to the FBI that he allowed his intuition to roam freely, to guide him in his pursuits.

"Doctor Conners, you were the one who performed the autopsy on the John Doe who disappeared from the morgue a week ago, is that correct?" Brody took the lead.

"Yes, that's correct. The cause of death was a gunshot wound to the heart. From what I can remember, he was a perfectly healthy young man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What about the bumps on his neck?" questioned Will.

"There was nothing irregular about that. Some people's spines are just more clearly visible than others through the skin. He was extremely fit so that conclusion makes sense."

"And the metallic color around the wound?" Brody asked as Will snorted in disbelief.

"Well, the bullet was made from magnetite. I've never quite seen anything like that before. Could have just been an allergic reaction from the metal. We'll never really know since I never got to see the final toxicology reports."

"Somehow I highly doubt that," commented Will. "I want to know your real findings, Doctor Conners."

"Sir, I have told you all that I have found in my preliminary tests. There was nothing extraordinary about the murder victim."

"Then where is the body? Why go through the trouble to get rid of the body? Can you answer me that?" snapped Will, his voice rising slightly.

"Sometimes there are sick individuals who steal bodies from morgues."

"You're saying that someone took the body to what? To sell body parts on the black market or something?"

"I have no idea what happened."

"That's bullshit, and we both know it!"

"Will, stop," whispered Brody.

Her hand found itself on his arm. It was meant to calm him down, but it only enraged him more. Brushing her off him, he stepped forward towards the doctor with fire burning in his eyes. He wanted answered and not the runaround. There was an intense ringing in his ears, a warning to tell him to back down. His instincts were kicking in, telling him to turn around and not look back. Except, he didn't think that he could just back down without answers.

"Will, let's go," urged Brody in hushed tones.

A man stepped out from the back room. He was tall, bulky, just like the man who had kidnapped him years ago. The ringing intensified, blurring his vision. Taking a stumbling step back, he felt Brody's small hand wrap around his bicep.

"I'll be back, Doctor Conners, and when I do, I want answers!"

Will forced his legs to jerk backwards and follow Brody outside. The farther he got away from the doctor and mystery man, the ringing seemed to lessen in its intensity. He was only vaguely aware of Brody questioning him, her voice harsh as she demanded what the hell that was all about. There were no answers to her inquiries.

His mouth felt like a desert. His throat felt as though it were closing up. The ringing in his head was replaced with a dull ache. It always happened when he got to close to the hybrids. His whole body would react, multiple warnings flickering on deep in his core. He couldn't explain it.

"I wanna see the crime scene," he croaked out and missed the concerned look cross Brody's features.

 **Conquest Motels**

Brody hung back as she watched her partner investigate the motel room. A couple had been staying there under the name Robert Petrie. They were an older couple identified in their mid-sixties. The man had towered over his petite wife according to the owner of the motel. The woman was a redhead and the man a brunette, both of them had streaks of gray in their hair. The man had been friendly, joked about baseball. The woman seemed detached, almost cold, as she lingered behind the male.

"Was there anything unusual about the couple, Mr. Moore?" questioned Brody.

Will tore through the motel room looking for clues. The drawers lay discarded on the floor, the sheets ripped from the bed. He was going above and beyond the usual call of duty detective work.

"You mean if anything screamed murderin' psychos?" The motel owner asked.

"I wouldn't put it that way but yes."

"Uh, the guy asked about the mountains."

"What about the mountains?"

"Asked if you could just roam around on 'em or if you had to have a guide," the owner paused. "Why is he tearing the place apart?"

Will was peeling back the carpet and seemed frustrated as nearly everything was being taken apart. It was as though he were looking for something specific, some little clue that only he knew about. Brody was baffled by the display.

"He's just… investigating thoroughly," she replied. "What else can you tell me about Mister Petrie and his wife?"

"You're way too young to remember, but there used to be a show called _The Dick Van Dyke Show_ and the main character was named Rob Petrie. I found it a little odd that this fellow had the same name."

"It's a fictional name?"

Her attention snapped to the motel owner. So the murderers may have been using aliases from a television show that had aired over a half a century before. Slowly, her gaze found itself back on Will who was examining the carpet in the corner of the room.

"Well, I suppose someone may have the same name. You never know. I just thought it was sorta funny after that guy turned up dead in here. They seemed like a nice, wholesome couple. You know, the husband dragging his wife on a vacation she didn't want to go on. It's a classic."

"So they were on vacation?"

"I suspect. Saw 'em getting suitcases out of the trunk of their car."

"Was it a rental?"

"I dunno. It was a sedan though. It was too dark to see anything specific about it."

Will pocketed something silver into his jacket pocket before standing up and making his way over towards his partner and the witness.

"Mister Moore, can you let us know if you see them come back here?" requested Will.

Brody gave her partner a questioning glare, but he just shook his head. The owner conceded. Will thanked him for his help and motioned for Brody to follow him out to the car. Once inside, he pulled out a silver tube and held it in front of his face.

"What is it?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. His finger grazed over a small button and a pointed metal stake shot out of the top. Both of the agents jumped back slightly. Brody had never seen anything like it before. Obviously, it was some kind of weapon, but she couldn't even give it a general name.

"They hid it under the carper. I guess they didn't want anyone to find it," supplied Will.

"Will, that's evidence. You shouldn't be touching it."

"I'm not turning this in."

"Then you're withholding evidence! It's illegal!"

The blade retracted back into the tube. Will placed it back into his breast pocket before turning over the engine. He glanced in her direction out of the corner of his eye and said, "Isn't that why they assigned a lawyer to be my partner?"

* * *

Back at the motel they were staying at, Will sat on his bed pouring over geological properties of the Appalachians. Magnetite was present in the mountain range. Never before had he gotten such a lead in these hybrids before. He found one, a dead one, and craved to know all the information he could. It had been eighteen years before that Will had first laid eyes on one of these creatures when he was kidnapped. He could remember seeing the bumps on the base of their necks, feel the danger that pulsated through his body as a warning.

A swift knock on his motel room door snapped Will out of his musing. Rolling off the hard bed, he made his way to the front door. Peering through the peephole, he saw his new partner standing outside with her arms clenched around her stomach. He opened the door to allow her entrance.

"You okay?"

"I want you to look at something," she said in a rush.

She brushed passed him in just her pajamas. Looking white and sweaty, she breathed heavily as she picked up her hair off the base of her neck. Taking a step forward, Will peered down at the skin to see several small bumps.

"Did they get me?" she whispered.

He ran a finger over one of the bumps and chuckled softly. Brody twitched in anticipation. He pulled back the collar of her silk shirt to look down her back. More bumps were present.

"They look like hives," he replied.

"Hives?"

"They're all down your back too. It's either hives or bed bugs, and I for one hope it's the former."

"Oh my God…"

She whipped around, locked her arms around Will's waist, and buried her head into his chest. It really wasn't something Will was expecting, but he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered that she was fine. Suddenly, she jerked back and looked up at her partner in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Brody. Don't worry about it."

For the first time, Will felt like he truly saw the real Riley Brody – a vulnerable young woman who was battling her morals against the requests of government officials who wanted her to destroy him. He felt sympathy towards her.

"I should go."

"No, come on. Sit down. You're shaking."

He gestured towards his rumpled bed covered in folders, papers, and his laptop. Brody reluctantly made her way across the room and sat down on the bed. Clearing her throat, she watched as Will sat down on the floor with his back against the bed.

"Will… do you honestly believe that our John Doe was really an… an alien-human hybrid?" Brody asked softly.

Will closed his eyes, memories of his kidnapping washing over him. These men were strong, powerful, and definitely not human. He could remember being scared out of his wits, could remember that they didn't _feel_ human just like at the coroners.

I was abducted when I was eleven," he replied.

"I know… I read it in your file."

"They were these hybrids. I remember the bumps on their necks…" Will trailed off.

A part of him wanted to tell Brody everything, tell her how they wanted him to do things with his mind… things that he could in fact do, things that lay dormant inside of him and only resurfaced when he needed them the most. He wanted someone to confide in, someone to help carry the burden that was weighing down on him. Another part of him didn't trust Brody enough to spill everything despite the fact that it might change her opinion on this case, on him.

"Will…"

"They wanted me for reasons I can't even begin to comprehend. My parents didn't believe me. They took me to hospitals to get me evaluated. They thought I had some sort of mental disorder… because I was adopted and they didn't know my family history. They thought my biological parents were unstable and that's why they gave me up."

"What did these men do to you?"

Will twisted his upper body to look at Brody. She seemed genuinely concerned as her gaze clung to him unblinkingly. He felt so naked, so exposed. He hasn't talked about any of this since he was eleven or twelve. Don't ask, don't tell – that became the policy in the Van de Kamp household quickly after the whole ordeal.

"I don't remember much," he lied.

She didn't look like she believed him for one second, but she let it go. Will had never been so grateful in his entire life. So instead of spilling his sob story to her, he swiftly changed the subject.

"Tell me about yourself," he suggested.

"Didn't you read all about me in my file?" She said in a teasing voice and gained a smirk from him. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

Anything was better than talking about his kidnapping. He didn't care if she told him about her awkward adolescent years or what was going on in her life now. Anything that didn't pertain to him sounded just wonderful.

"Um… I have a big brother named Dean. Married with one little girl. He's a high school teacher. I also have a big sister named Blake. She's a nurse at a hospital in D.C. What about you?"

"Only child. At least… I was the only kid my parents adopted. I dunno if I have any biological siblings running around." Will relaxed against the bed. "Did you ever have an imaginary friend growing up?"

"I called him Frankie and told everyone he was a ghost who lived in the mirrors."

A smile broke out on Will's face. He could hear Brody collapse on the bed behind him, a long sigh escaping through her lips. She was no doubt mortified that she told him about her imaginary friend.

"I had three," commented Will. "Their names were Byers, Frohike, and Langley."

"What? Where did you come up with those names?"

Will didn't tell her he didn't believe they were just figments of his imagination. He believed that they were real somehow. They had saved his life before, talked to him even until this day when he really needed someone. It was just easier to call them imaginary instead of letting anyone know he thought they were real.

"I had a wild imagination. I used to fight off garden gnomes too," he joked.

"Are you sure the gnomes weren't possessed by aliens?" jested Brody.

The jab was meant to be playful, and Will let out a low chuckle. She was trying to break the ice, and he took it for that. He let her have her small victory of breaching the ironclad wall he built up around himself.

"Do you want to find your biological parents?" questioned Brody.

"I only think about it every day," he answered honestly. "I wonder what they look like, what their hobbies are, what their jobs were… I just constantly wonder about them.

"Have you tried to use your connections to find them?"

"Ha, it was a completely closed adoption. My mom said that they only thing they knew was that my mother was single when she gave me up. They asked about the father but were told he wasn't even in the picture. I was about ten months old when my parents got me."

"What about a confidential intermediary?"

"I tried. It didn't work. I mean, it was like all the files on my biological parents just disappeared. Nobody can find a record that they even existed. I knew that it would be impossible to find my birth father on my own… but I always thought I'd find my birth mother."

Will got up from the floor and started to pace around the motel room. He wasn't much for emotions or sob stories. In fact, he didn't even now why he started to tell his pathetic tale to a woman who was sent to destroy his life's work. She seemed so sincere though, seemed interested in his thoughts and feelings. Part of him was screaming that it was just a ploy to get him to trust her. Another part was telling him she was true.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying," she spoke softly as she sat up.

"My birth mother only requested one thing…" he whispered so quietly he wasn't sure he was even speaking aloud. "She didn't want them changing my name."

"Maybe you have a family name…?"

"Oh, yeah, because William isn't unique at all," he bit out.

"What about your middle name? Isn't it some sort of animal?"

"Fox. Yeah, I'm convinced my mother was a druggie or something if she named me William Fox."

"It has to be a family name. Have you ever tried looking at records of people named Fox?"

"It's useless, Brody," he said as he cleared his throat, all emotion leaving his voice. "They obviously didn't want me, so I don't know why I care so much."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his three friends flicker into the room. Byers, Frohike, and Langley had come to pay a visit. Turning his head towards them, he noticed that they all had deep frowns etched into their eyebrows.

"Will, you okay?"

Snapping his attention to Brody, he looked at her briefly before turning back to the men. They had vanished without a trace. He didn't have the heart to explain anything to her so he just nodded numbly before mumbling something about being exhausted. She understood immediately. She hoisted herself off the bed and walked towards him. Her hand ran down the length of his arm and she whispered, "Goodnight." Then, she was gone. Will rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand.

The next morning, Will woke up Brody early and headed out towards the Appalachian Mountain to investigate. Will wanted to find the Petrie husband and wife duo more than anything. They knew of alien-human hybrids, knew how to kill them. He craved to know their knowledge, to have someone to talk to who understood what was going on better than he. The mountains, he hoped, would be the key.

"Will, it's six in the morning," yawned Brody. "Why couldn't we have waited a few more hours?"

"The early bird catches the worm," he said nonchalantly as he killed the engine.

"The second mouse gets the cheese," she said dryly as she exited the car.

Will walked around the car and surveyed the mountains. Turning back to glance at his partner, he noticed she was freezing. Her hands rubbed together feverishly as she cowered into her jacket. Tearing his gaze away from her, he crouched down to study the mountain beneath him. He grabbed a few loose pieces of rock and placed them into his jacket pocket. When he got back to D.C., he wanted them tested for magnetite. Perhaps the Appalachians were where the Petrie twosome got their magnetite for their gun.

"Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," he said with a smirk as he looked up at her face half obscured by the rising run.

"A bird in the hand is worth more tha…" Brody trailed off as she looked to her left. "Will, we have company."

Half of him expected it to be Rob Petrie and his wife. He thought they'd be back to collect more bullet materials. Except, it was a man who instantly turned Will's insides around. The warning ring sounded throughout his skull as he rose to his full height and reached for his gun. Brody followed suit.

"Sir, stay back and identify yourself! We're with the FBI," she commanded.

Will watched as the man kept his distance from the mountain as though he were afraid of it. Intuition told Will to shoot the man, antagonize him forward just to see what would happen. He was calmer than he was before at the coroner's office. Perhaps, it was the Appalachians that put him at ease.

"Haven't seen you in a long time, William," the man said.

Brody turned towards her partner, a burning question clear on her face. Instead of acknowledging her, he stared at the alien-human hybrid in front of him. He couldn't recall the face for the life of him. Perhaps, it was one of his abductors.

Curiosity got the better of Will as he took several steps forward. His gun was still raised, pointed directly at the heart of the hybrid. His finger toyed with the trigger of the gun, itching to jerk backwards and allow the shell to dislodge itself from the barrel. Taking another step forward, the buzzing in his head intensified until he couldn't even think straight. His finger yanked back and a bullet went hurtling out of the Glock.

Brody gasped as the bullet hit the man square in the chest. He didn't seem bothered by the buckshot in the least. A snort escaped the man's thin lips as Will stumbled back a few steps to clear his head.

"You remind me of your father, William."

"What do you know about my father?" Will yelled back, knowing the man was not talking about Mark Van de Kamp – the dairy farmer and woodworker from Wyoming.

"Your father never stop searching for the truth even when he got in way over his head. You're walking down the same path as he did."

Will's jaw tightened, his mind reeling from the only information he had ever learned about his birth father. Before he could inquire more, he noticed a tall man sneaking up behind the hybrid. His brown hair was streaked with gray, his face drawn in concentration. He looked eerily familiar, but Will couldn't place why for the life of him. A shotgun was held tightly in his grasp. The man raised the gun and pulled the trigger without even blinking.

He felt Brody jerk behind him, lacing her fingers around his wrist in a death grip. The ringing in his head ceased as the hybrid fall to the ground with a dull _thud!_. The mystery man stepped forward, kicking the body over until he was on his back. The gun trained on the hybrid but the thing didn't move an inch. Will craned his neck and saw a grayish-silver tone coloring his neck and slowly raising to his chin. It was the same discoloration of the man a few days ago killed with the magnetite bullet.

"You're Robert Petrie, aren't you?" asked Will as he took a cautious step forward and felt Brody's nails dig into his skin in response.

The older man looked up at him, an unreadable expression crossing his features. Stubble graced his chin and barely hid a birthmark on his cheek. His eyes were a muddy green color and looked fiercely intense.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"William," he tried to keep his voice steady. "William Fox Van de Kamp. I'm an agent with the FBI."

The man's mouth opened slightly, his face contorting into what Will thought was panic. The man's jaw clenched for several seconds before relaxing.

"This man was a human who was experimented on with alien DNA. He literally shed his skin when he transformed into a hybrid. The only way to kill them is magnetite, either melted into a bullet or when they get too close to the mountains. They'll pull a flying nun and nose-dive right into it."

"How do you know all of this?" William asked unblinkingly.

"I've been around the block," he replied with a shit-eating grin. "FBI, huh? Be careful who you trust. Keep your nose clean and be careful."

There was a female voice yelling in the distance. William couldn't make out what the woman was saying. The man looked behind him then turned back to Will. He opened his mouth as though to say something but thought better of it.

"I gotta go," he said forlornly.

"Wait, just tell me your name!" Will cried desperately as he ripped his arm away from Brody's grasp.

"Rob Petrie," he replied with the same shit-eating grin as before and then took off running.

He turned towards Brody, his mouth wide open and his eyes searching her face frantically for answers he knew she did not hold. She shrugged her shoulder, her brow furrowed.

"We let a murderer go," she whispered.

Will bent down in front of the hybrid. Grabbing him by his jacket, he started to drag the body towards the mountain. He ignored Brody's questions and protests. He felt the body spasm underneath his grip the closer he got to the mountain. Suddenly, the body flew off the ground, knocking Will onto his behind. The dead body collided with the mountain and disappeared. Will tore his gaze away from the point of impact to look at his shocked partner. She had ducked to the ground at some point and was laying only a few feet away from him. Her mouth moved as though to form words but nothing escaped her ruby lips.

"Awesome, huh?" questioned Will weakly with a smirk. "Guess Petrie was right."

"Wh-what happened?"

"I think the mountain acted as a magnet and pulled the alien-human hybrid towards it."

A small chuckle slipped out of Brody's mouth. Will slowly stood up, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans. He made his way over to his partner and extended his hand to help her up. With a soft smile, she grabbed his hand into hers and allowed him to hoist her up.

"I can't believe this…" she whispered to no one in particular. "I can't even comprehend what I just witnessed…"

"Brody," he spoke softly, his hand squeezing her fingers to garner her attention. "You need to think about this in terms of what you're going to write in your report. They will destroy you if you start writing about this kind of stuff with an open mind."

Brody faltered, the creeping smile disappeared completely off her face. Nodding numbly, she took one last glance at the mountain before following Will to the car.

 **Arlington, Virginia**

Will walked into his apartment feeling one step closer to the bigger truths that lay beyond common knowledge. He had watched a man die by magnetite, an element that he was just only beginning to comprehend. It was almost unbelievable that after all this time trying to find the aliens that kidnapped him when he was a kid, he had finally found them. It was all thanks to the X-Files which gave him the perfect opportunity and means to find cases that others would have cast aside as nonsense. By pure luck, he found a man who knew of the hybrids, who may be willing to trust Will and tell him more of the information he craved.

The answering machine in his living room desk blinked brightly in the darkened apartment. He kept one purely for his parents in Wyoming. They couldn't always get a hold of him on his cell while traveling and wanted a reliable line to reach him. Pressing the play button, he expected to hear his mother's voice rambling on about him coming home for Thanksgiving. Instead, a male voice filled the room asking Will to meet him in two hours. The man claimed he had information on his last case, about the hybrids Will was so desperate to find.

 _Agent Van de Kamp has a solid belief system, and I believe that he will not rest until he finds a denouement that is fitting to his quest for the truths he so desperately seeks._

Will shivered involuntarily at the biting wind. His hair blew back on his head to allow his face a clear shot to be assaulted by the bitter November air. His informant was late or quite possibly a no show. It would be typical if the guy wouldn't show because more often than not these so-called know-it-alls left him standing alone in the late hours of the night.

 _Though there is no concrete evidence that Agent Van de Kamp's accusation are even remotely feasible, it would be in my good conscious to allow him to continue his work on the X-Files under a careful eye. I do not believe that he is a threat to himself or anyone else for that matter. He is simply a man of strong convictions._

"Agent Van de Kamp," a male voice called.

Will turned around and spotted an older man with glasses approaching him cautiously. There was no intuition, no thoughts, or feelings to help Will determine whether or not this man was there to help him or harm him. Too many times before had he met with informants that were unstable, delusional, and proceeded to act in a series of deranged behaviors. They were mostly phonies, UFO nuts, people who didn't possess any real knowledge. This man, however, looked grounded and stable. In the pit of Will's gut, he knew this man had information for him.

"My name is Gibson Praise."

 _I cannot explain what Agent Van de Kamp and I witnessed in West Virginia while on the John Doe case. We were unable to retrieve any evidence that it was nothing other than a body snatching from a morgue. There were no leads, no explanations, no helpful civilians. There seems to have been no motive, no reason for that body to disappear. It is in my professional belief that the murderer(s) snatched the body and discarded it to avoid forensic evidence to be found that would incriminate him/her._

"You said you had information for me about the John Doe who died in West Virginia," Will commented to cut to the point.

"That John Doe was a military employee. If you check through records, you will come across his picture and dossier."

"Are you saying that the military didn't want this man to be revealed so they stole the body from the morgue and bought off the coroner?"

"I'm saying that a secret group of government men didn't want anyone seeing the body because he wasn't human anymore. He was made into what is called a Super Soldier. An ordinary man created into something extraordinary. The only way to kill a Super Soldier is by magnetite."

 _We encountered a man whom Agent Van de Kamp claims to be an alien-human hybrid. This man threatened us for attempting to get too close to the truth about our John Doe – who Agent Van de Kamp believes to be an alien-human hybrid as well._

"Why magnetite?" questioned Will.

"It's believed that it off sets a Super Soldier's iron levels and then terminates it. We've found nothing else that can kill one."

"We?"

 _It is Agent Van de Kamp's belief that these alien-human hybrids can be tracked by protrusions on the back of the neck. There could be a number of logical explanations as to why these men had bumps on their necks. Except, I cannot explain how Agent Van de Kamp's bullet did not stop the man at the mountains. We believe the killer of the body that disappeared from the morgue was killed by a Robert Petrie. We believe also that Robert Petrie appeared at the mountains and killed the man who was advancing on us. It appeared that he used the same magnetite bullets as in the first murder._

"My associates and I," he replied. "My associates who killed that John Doe with the magnetite bullet that disappeared from the morgue. My associate who saved your life on that mountain."

"Robert Petrie and his wife?"

 _I cannot explain what happened next in rational terms. The man disappeared into the Appalachian Mountains. It was as though the two were magnets being drawn together. Although I do not agree with Agent Van de Kamp's explanation of alien-human hybrids, I cannot deny what I saw nor even begin to comprehend it._

"I know them by the names of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

"Fox? Fox Mulder?" Will whispered to himself and thought of Brody commenting that maybe he had a family name.

 **Location Unknown**

Heels clicked on the tiled floor lined with rows upon rows of filing cabinets. A brunette woman stopped in front of the B's. Placing her cigarette into her mouth, she freed her hands to rifle through the folders. Her fingers wrapped around the file that read _Brody, Riley A._ Taking one last drag of her cigarette, she dropped it on the floor and stepped on it. She then flipped through the contents lazily.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice questioned.

"We put her in this position based upon the faith that we have enough on her to ruin not only her career but her life," she responded coolly. "Except, I seem to remember reading about how Dana Scully didn't exactly follow orders when it came to Fox Mulder."

"You think she'll be as big of a problem?" the bulky man stepped out of the shadows and stood next to the woman.

"I'm saying that William has dewy sensitive eyes and sad puppy dog looks. He'll break her soon enough and get her to follow him faithfully."

"He didn't seem to break you with his dewy sensitivity and puppy looks, Walsh," the man said in an amused tone.

She snapped the folder closed and cleared her throat. Placing it back into the filing cabinet, she pushed the drawer shut before she turned to look at the man.

"We should really update the filing system. It's ancient and impractical," she said calmly.

"It's called hackers, Walsh, we can't digitalize because of the Snowdens out there."

"There must be another way," she snapped.

"You've already done the ultimate sin towards _Van_ , Walsh. Don't get all sentimental and gloomy now." The man smirked. "Isn't that what you'd call him? _Van_?"

"Shut up."

"You're just a Benedict Arnold. Get used to your new role."

"You made it sound like I had a choice," she replied bitterly.

"There's always a choice. You made your bed, now lie in it."

 _Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Review if you want me to continue!_


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